


Snow White Streets and Red on Your Cheeks

by darkestbliss



Category: Muse
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkestbliss/pseuds/darkestbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowpremacy prompt: It's Christmas Eve. Matt is cold, grumpy, and lonely. The spirit of Christmas arrives in the form of his boyfriend. Fluff, smut, hot cocoa, and presents ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow White Streets and Red on Your Cheeks

Pacing, pacing, pacing. A clock ticks somewhere down the hall and the rush of wind and snow relentlessly pounds like a hammer into the glass window pane.

 

That stupid fucking snow, fucking everything up. Completely shit.

 

Matt shivers beneath his two jumpers, trackie bottoms, a bright red beanie with a matching checkered scarf, fuzzy rainbow socks, and baby blue mittens. He could turn on the fireplace to warm the house up, but he’s currently too grumpy to find the brains to do so, and in all honesty, he’s not that cold; he just wants to make himself appear as miserable as possible so that his boyfriend can feel bad for him when he comes home. Seeking attention and sympathy is one of Matt’s many talents.

 

The cat glares at him from her spot on the corner of the sofa, and Matt hisses at her with a sour look on his face. He hates that stupid cat. It’s not even his. His boyfriend was the one who picked it off the side of the street and brought it home, even though the stupid thing was most likely covered head to tail in disease.

 

“Fuck off Pissila,” he screeches to her when she swipes a paw at him as he goes to sit on the edge of the sofa, impatiently tapping his foot against the tiled floors as he stares at his mobile sitting on the coffee table. It buzzes.

 

-If you’re being mean to Priscila I’m not giving you your gifts until you clean her litter box.-

 

Matt wrinkles his nose at the thought and quickly glances to the left at the cat who is flicking her tail back and forth. He rolls his eyes and reaches for his mobile and the telly remote, typing out a quick reply to his boyfriend.

 

-Merry Christmas Eve to you, too.-

 

-Stop being a whiny bitch. I’ll be home as soon as I can... Also, get your feet off the coffee table.-

 

Matt’s jaw drops in horror, and he quickly removes his feet from the table, acting as if the surface is made of lava.

 

-Prick-

 

-Slob-

 

“Fucker,” Matt says aloud, eyeing the three empty Chinese takeout cartons that have been on the table all day along with random pieces of sheet music he can’t even remember bringing out. “I’m not that messy,” he mumbles just as another text comes in.

 

-No witty comeback? Ha! You must’ve finally admitted it, terrific-

 

-Just shut the fuck up and hurry home. I’m freezing my balls off and I miss you-

 

-So romantic. I love you, I’ll try to catch a cab home x-

 

Matt locks his phone shut and throws it on the coffee table beside the leftover Chinese food that he should really put in the refrigerator, then lifts his feet onto the table with a tiny, rebellious smirk. He’ll never know.

 

-Also, don’t you dare put your feet back on the coffee table-

 

“Fucking Christ,” Matt hisses under his breath, glaring at Priscila. “Are you sending him fucking messages or something?” The cat simply shows him her teeth, flicks her tail, and walks toward the small kitchen, the patter of her paws on the tiled floors making Matt shake his head with a frown pasted across his face. He hates that goddamned cat.

 

With a deep sigh, Matt stretches his arms back and props his feet up against the coffee table now that he doesn’t have an overly-clean freak boyfriend texting him every five seconds and an evil cat watching his every move. He shivers against the brisk chill in the air but, once again, is too stubborn to get up from the sofa to light the fireplace.

 

Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaks - probably the cat - and the clock in the hallway continues to tick and tock. Outside, the wind has grown even more intense and through half lidded eyes, Matt is watching the snow continue to fall down and coat the ground of their neighborhood, which is only lit up by the street lights and bright white of the snow. It’s pretty to look at, but then he remembers it’s what’s causing his boyfriend to not be home early on Christmas Eve, and he gets angry again.

 

The snow is only nice when it’s the open window wallpaper for passionate sex in the heat of night when they go to the cabin deep in the countryside each January for a quiet, romantic weekend alone. And of course, random days they have off from work when they can walk around town with hot tea holding hands, but that’s a more sensitive part of Matt that he doesn’t really want to focus on right now, not when Chris is stranded literally only thirty minutes away because the fucking trains are delayed and there is no way to experience that type of sensitivity.

 

Picking up the remote and flipping through channels on the telly, Matt finally comes across last year’s Christmas Special for Doctor Who; he’s already seen it a million times but it’s better than the cooking shows on every other channel that bore him half to death. With a deep sigh he tucks his head into his scarf, closing his eyes and listening to the program with mild interest. The cat struts back into the room with rhythmic flicks of her tail, one swiping against Matt’s thigh as she hops back onto the sofa.

 

“What do you want?” Matt grumbles sleepily. “Food?” Priscila meows, and as Matt reaches out to tentatively scratch her back, she sits up rigid, hisses, and swipes her paw at him. “I swear to God, we’re getting a puppy next time,” he says as he stands up to move to the kitchen where they keep the cat food.

 

After cracking open a can of food and plopping it in her food dish, Matt quickly sidesteps the cat, puts the kettle on the stovetop, and walks back to the sofa. Once again he props his feet on top of the coffee table, burrows into his warm clothes, and shuts his eyes. He falls asleep just a few minutes later.

 

~

 

He awakes an unknown amount of time later to the shrill whistling of the tea kettle and the harsh sound of Priscila meowing. “Fuck,” Matt shouts, leaping from the sofa like it shocked him with electricity. “Goddammit!” He runs toward the kitchen, tripping over his own feet and throwing his arms in front of himself only to fall face first into the chest of another person.

 

“Matthew!” Chris says loudly, a chuckle unable to resist escape. He puts his hands on the shoulders of the buzzing brunette. “Just, calm down.”

 

Matt then looks up to Chris’ smirking face and quietly shrinks in on himself, embarrassed for being caught in such a frenzy. “You’re home,” he says as his face begins to blush bright red. “I didn’t hear you come in. Um... Hi?”

 

Chris shakes his head and lets a tiny smile spread across his lips before he leans down and gently presses them to Matthew’s, his fingers finding the curve of his boyfriend’s jaw almost immediately. Matt lets out a tiny ‘oof’ at the surprise of the kiss, but quickly relaxes, moving his hand to sit atop Chris’ broad and well-muscled shoulder. “Hello, love,” Chris says lightly.

 

In that moment, all of Matt’s anger seems to disappear into thin air. Priscila darts between his and Chris’ legs, her tail swiping across Matt’s calf, but Matt doesn’t care because he currently has the best Christmas present he could ask for. A swipe of her claws against his ankle is enough to change that mentality, and he turns toward Priscila with a stomp, making the cat jump back and retreat to under the sofa.

 

“Be nice to Priscila-” Chris brings his lips close to Matt’s again “-or you won’t get your Christmas present.”

 

“But it’s not Christmas yet,” Matt says, gently biting Chris’ lip then stepping back to look into his boyfriend’s soft brown eyes.

 

“Consider it an early gift,” Chris says with a wink before attacking Matt’s lips and reaching behind his slim hips to grab his arse.

 

Matt gets the hint right away.

 

~

 

Their bedroom feels like a dream, the fairy lights reflecting off the crystal white snow outside and casting shadows on the walls, furniture, and their naked bodies. Chris runs his hand through Matt’s messy hair and lightly rubs his lower back, undoing the kinks he put there just minutes before. Priscila is meowing outside the closed bedroom door, but both men pretend not to hear her.

 

The falling snow seems to dance through the sky, hypnotically coating the already white ground and snow-topped trees.

 

“Another white Christmas,” Chris whispers.

 

“Too many delayed trains,” Matt mumbles back, which pulls a chuckle from Chris’ throat.

 

“Awe,” Chris giggles, turning over to look into Matt’s bright blue eyes. “Did the prince not get his way?” He gives a fake pout and gently prods his ribs, trying to force a laugh out from the once again moping man.

 

“Shut up,” Matt whines. “I was lonely and cold.”

 

“And pissy.”

 

“No.”

 

“Whatever you say, your highness.”

 

Chris sneers at the glare Matt gives him. The smaller brunette has flipped back onto his stomach with his hips, arse, and legs on full display. He breathes in heavily, the smell of sex still in the air from earlier and the sheets still pushed to the foot of the bed. Chris can feel himself hardening at the sight of Matt’s slim, pale body. It’s like an open invitation, one he knows will never be denied. The soft curve of his arse is literally beckoning him, and he pulls Matt closer, pressing himself against him.

 

“Mmm, again?” Matt mumbles, turning his head to press lazy kisses to Chris’ scruff. Chris just simply smiles, nuzzling himself into Matt’s neck and smelling the sweat that’s still there from earlier. He smells divine. “Christopher,” Matt sings.

 

“Love when you say my name like that.” Chris sits up, a stray blanket pooling itself in his lap. He pulls his arms up into a giant stretch, popping his back before settling back down again. Matt smiles from his spot on the bed, staring up at his boyfriend with bright blue eyes and color on his cheeks. “C’mere you,” Chris says, pulling Matt up and into his side. “I love you.”

 

Matt hums contentedly before laying his head on Chris’ shoulder, finding comfort in the other man’s warmth. “I love you too.”

 

They both sigh, lazily looking out the window where the rate of the snowfall has slowed down and the wind has dwindled away. They can hear the children from next door out in the garden, leaving a bundle of carrots on the terrace for Santa’s reindeer. The sound of snow balls hitting windows and unaware mums and dads is music to their ears, the sign that Christmas is almost here and that it will be beautiful.

 

“You know what?” Chris asks, lazily running his fingers up and down the inside of Matt’s bare thigh, mere inches away from his soft cock. The action is not suggestive; it’s a sign of affection, more than anything.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I really want to suck hot cocoa off your nipples.”

 

The non-suggestive affection was good while it lasted, at least. Matt immediately hardens and gives Chris a wicked smile. “Only if I get to suck it off your dick after.”

 

It’s only a fair trade, and one that Chris can’t say no to.

 

~

 

Twelve hours later, they’re sitting on the sofa clothed in new pajamas and slippers with cups of tea in their hands and a cat nestled between them. Wrapping paper and ripped open parcels litter the carpet, meant to be picked up later in the evening once they’ve slept off the Christmas excitement. Chris smiles, pecking his sleepy boyfriend once on the cheek before pulling him close. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispers, smiling into his messy brown hair and humming when he hears snores emitting from Matt’s mouth. He grins once more. “And get your feet off the fucking coffee table.”


End file.
